


The Queen Crow

by NoblehouseofTargaryen (Captain_Shep)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Assassin!Mahariel, Assassin!Zevran, Crow Leader Mahariel, F/M, post-Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Shep/pseuds/NoblehouseofTargaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mahariel is the Queen Crow - The woman that climbed a pile of bodies to lead the biggest Assassin's guild in Thedas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Queen Crow

Lyna takes a deep breath, steeling herself as she steps forward, the cool mask of leadership slipping down across her features, so easy now it was like stepping into a pool of warm water. Gone is the caring sparkle from her eyes, the way her lips tilt in amusement. Now her eyes are hard, cold like ice as they scan the room before her, her lips pursed, stained blood red as the doors are opened.

The attendant stutters as she glides past, train of her midnight dress pulling softly behind her as she moves past him without another word. The entire ballroom comes to a stop at her presence, washing over them like inky darkness as she descends the stairs.

Her eyes scan the crowd, watching as some rake over her with wide, curious eyes, others stepping back in silent fear, whispering to one another as the crowd parts for her.

The dressmakers of Antiva had pulled out all the stops for her tonight, she cut a devastating figure as she moved through the crowd.

Her gown hugged every inch of skin, made of a pure black silk that caressed her skin with every step she took. The gown cut low, hugging her breasts dangerously, thick gold chains barely holding the material up. The pauldrons were her favourite, something she’d insisted upon almost immediately. Thick crow feathers hugged her shoulders, spiralling to caress her collarbones, before they dipped towards her back, only just touching the skin that was left bare to the elements, save for the same golden chains that held the front together.

Her mask hugged her high cheekbones, two midnight black crow feathers pointing from her curled mass of braids, piled on top of her head elegantly. She had made it so blatantly obvious who she was, and why she was here.

What they didn’t know was who the target was.

Lyna Mahariel was the Queen Crow, the woman who climbed a pile of bodies to take over one of the largest assassin’s organisations in Thedas, and this kill was about more than just a contract. Fear tactics like her gown were assured to get people talking, gossip was her best weapon against Antivan society, for finding weak points she could exploit, which nobles to push just the right way.

It was an art, a sacred dance she’d learnt all too well.

When the rest of the ballroom had calmed enough to resume dancing and idle chatter, she swooped past a servant, quickly grabbing a goblet, before slipping a note onto the platter. He gave her a small nod, one that wouldn’t have been noticed if one wasn’t looking for it, before he continued on, melting into the crowd with practised ease.

She smirks as she takes a slow sip from the goblet, humming slightly at the feeling of spiced wine against her tongue. She so did love a party, and things were most certainly bound to get more interesting as the night wore on.

Lyna makes her rounds, speaking with contacts, pulling gossip from spineless nobles quivering in their boots, she’d bet twenty sovereigns that many of them wet their smalls after she’d taken her leave.

She feels when the tension in the room changes, and knows that her targets have arrived. One is easy to spot, his Orlesian garb standing out far too much for him to be more than a novice. They’d sent him to the slaughter, possibly as a gift… maybe as a lesson to the others.

Whatever the case, she mused, she’d take the kill, surely the House of Repose would leave something with his body to tell her why the boy had been sent.

Her next target was more elusive, and yet… familiar. She knew the patterns well, the gentle caress of his form as he slips through the crowd. She smiles delicately and resigns herself to waiting, pushing out onto a secluded balcony, breathing in the cool evening air.

Lyna isn’t waiting for long, she doesn’t even blink when a warm hand caresses her naked back, chains tinkling as he runs his bronzed hands down them. She smiles as she takes another sip of her goblet, sighing as he moves to press his hands into her waist, pulling her back into his strong chest.

“I must say mi amore, you look absolutely devastating.” He whispers into her ear, his warm breath washing over her pale neck, before he lays a kiss just behind her ear. She settles her hands over his, leaning back so she can look up at him with a secretive smile.

“All for you ma vhenan.” She whispers back, turning slowly in his arms, until their face to face, both of their features covered slightly by black masks. She reaches up to run a hand through his blonde locks, now hanging below his shoulders. “You always did look ravishing in finery.” She whispers.

He chuckles, deep voice rasping as he leans in closer, lips barely an inch away from hers as he speaks. “We do make an impressive pair mia cara.” There’s a soft beat between them, before his hand grasps the back of her slender neck, crashing their lips together with a soft moan she feels right to her core.

He chuckles, smiling into their heated kiss as she tangles her hands in his hair, trying desperately to push herself closer to him as he steps them backwards, her hips meeting the cold stone of the railing.

She whines as he pulls back, but he merely laughs and presses a kiss to her warm cheek. “Patience mi amore, a Queen always has patience.” He throws her a wink when she rolls her eyes affectionately, before reaching into his doublet to pull out a small square of paper.

Her eyes widen as she takes it, eyes scanning the few small words written by one of the House of Reposes’ masters. “They must be either very careless, or very eager for this to get into our hands.” She whispers.

Zevran smiles, very nearly feral as he carefully takes the note from her hand, slipping it back into his doublet. He leans down, caressing her thigh gently, before tapping the knives she has hidden there. “Shall we go to work then, My Queen?” he whispers, holding an arm out.

She smiles, reaching over to take his arm and kiss him gently on the cheek. She faces her eyes forward, ice cascading once again over her features as they step forward, ready to end the lives of several dozen people tonight.

“We shall, My King.” She replies with a wicked smirk.


End file.
